Even at thirty seven my tits were still perky. The dress was short. It only came to the middle of my thighs. I slipped on a pair of my white knickers... I took one last look in the mirror. I thought to myself. "For a mother of an eighteen year old son, I still looked good. I know my husband still likes what I look like. He tries to fuck me at least five times a week." I heard the car horn.I ran downstairs, closed and locked the front door and headed for the car. My son was already in the seat.. He leaned down and whispered to Herodias asking, “How old are thee?”“I am twelve, sir,” she whispered.He raised his voice and asked, “Did you say twelve?”“Yes sir,” she said meekly.Looking again at the paper before addressing Mr. Hick, “Sir I see that this young lady's mother has given her consent for her to marry you but I believe the statement that she is of age in incorrect. Nowhere in this church nor in all of England is a twelve-year-old of age to marry. You will Mr. Hicks return this. More

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